


Tree-Branch in the Deep Wood

by Kioma



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Futanari, Other, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kioma/pseuds/Kioma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having followed a strange stag into the wilds of Teldrassil, Gail finds herself intruding on a secret, sacred festival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tree-Branch in the Deep Wood

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written with the reclusive nature of Night Elves in mind, and the thought that not all (perhaps not even most) are as gregarious with other races as they seem to be. Also, there's futanari in this. Don't read if you don't like.

* * * * *

Down in the hollow between two unlikely woody cliffs high in the boughs of Teldrassil there was a darkness, green and lush, that not even the noonday sun could reach.  
  
Lights spun in that darkness. Tiny by contrast to the trees and hills around them those gleams of brilliance barely shed luminescence around but, then, that wasn't their purpose.  
  
They were lanterns fashioned with care and cunning from enchanted woods and handmade paper. Animals were their forms - splendid fish, prowling nightsabers, proud stags and watchful owls - and the figures that carried them swirled and danced in beautiful ritual movement.  
  
Down the length of the hollow they went, down and back, their bearers hanging then from branches and pegs along the way. Fragments of coloured light gleamed in the green-black space as each was lifted and secured from its appointed place. One by one the dancers stepped with lithe grace from place to place weaving the magic of their movements with the heady enchantment of the forest about them.  
  
From the air it might look like there were a landing-strip appearing in that corridor of shadow but no guards came out this way, no flying wanderers, not even birds. Some deep-wood magic kept prying eyes away, a mystical ward that had nothing to do with the dancers below or their leaders.  
  
Perhaps Elune alone, looking down from Her vantage-point in the skies, saw the dancers and their lanterns. Maybe it was a sight reserved for Her eyes alone as the brilliance of a bonfire flared into life near the very end of the wooded corridor and the dark cave found there.  
  
Colour and dancers weren't the only things to be found down in the hollow. It was a place of power long before even Teldrassil stood, old before it was wrought as only things of the Emerald Dream could be. The cave, a lost barrow-den that even most other Druids has forgotten existed, was woven tight with dreams of secrecy.  
  
Even the dancers, supplicants all, had no way of finding the place before the right time of the year. Instead they received a summons that their spirits ached for all year round, and their hearts leapt when they received it.  
  
Heading into the perilous, untamed wilds each met in the hollow and kissed their fellows a joyous greeting. Each bore one of those lanterns, made in secrecy during the year, and each took part in that dance without needing to learn the steps. It  _spoke_  to them, to their very souls. None of the Kaldorei there had any idea how many times they'd hung those lights from their spots, brought colour to the dark, woke the sleeping wood with their song.  
  
As their steps came to an end there came the disarmingly ordinary time when the supplicants mingled, speaking as any people do with hushed and excited tones when waiting for the guest of honour to arrive.  
  
This year, though, they had a watcher in the woods.

* * * * *

Gail Boucher squatted on the ridge above the lights, concealed and fascinated.   
  
Gail Boucher. She hated the name. It was so...  _Human_ . Just like her.   
  
At five feet and seven inches she was nothing special. Her sandy-blonde hair was barely long enough to tie back and while her face was fair, perhaps even beautiful if she looked after herself better, she found it singularly boring.   
  
She was a hunter - well, a trapper might be a better term. Most people called 'hunters' were heroes with an affinity for beasts and tremendous skill with bow and trap; she just killed animals and traded their meat and skins for a living. Gail liked to think she did it with respect but she was no Kaldorei.   
  
Her fair skin was blessed (though to her cynical mind the word needed inverted commas - 'blessed') with a profusion of freckles. Her womanly curves strained at her clothing which invariably made her feel fat when compared to the elegant giants of Darnassus where she made her home.   
  
The Night Elves of Teldrassil tolerated her. She adored them. Gail Boucher, late of Duskwood, was in envy and awe of these magnificent beauties that she could never be like. Their mere presence made her feel dull and flawed.   
  
Rather typically the human responded to this feeling of inadequacy by meeting it with sheer raw attitude. That, at least, she knew she was good at. The years of mostly successful political relations with her kind had only barely blunted the racial bigotry that the Night Elves bore. While the face of diplomacy between the humans and elves was open and accepting that façade was just that, a mask that hid disdain and derision.    
  
Gail had almost starved to death trying to break into the local trapper market before the elves had begun buying her wares. They had spent thousands of years in seclusion, hiding their beautiful faces from the other races of Azeroth, with only the Children of Cenarius and occasional tauren as exceptions. Gail supposed a certain racial bigotry was to be expected.   
  
It annoyed her, of course, but she was still enamoured with the woodland giants and, so, she stayed. Snide comments had been met with barbed comebacks until the trapper had finally won some limited acceptance with the locals on the strength of her sheer determination if nothing else.   
  
She'd even made some friends amongst the elves, who called her 'little sabercub' because (they said) she was all claws and fangs when cornered. That suited her fine; Gail Sabercub was at least a bit better than Gail Boucher, if nothing else.   
  
And now the curious little cub was peering down at those strange lights wondering what they meant, what the dancers were doing. She'd only come out of the city to hunt, and not too much of that, when by some odd chance (to her mind) she had stumbled across this ridge and its twin, and the magical sights between.   
  
Little did she know her night was about to change.

* * * * *

The Kaldorei wore simple robes of green and brown, together with a cunning mask, the latter fashioned in the form of the beasts that their lanterns mimicked. In truth each had a fair idea as to the identity of the other but the tradition of this masquerade demanded that none actually ask who another was. Such mundane concerns had no place in that moment. A tension filled the area as they waited and chatted; something was about to happen.  
  
Gail couldn't see the masks or hear the talk, of course; the ridge on which she sat was far too high. She didn't mind at first but as the minutes wore on the human began to get impatient. This looked  _interesting,_  far more interesting than anything she'd seen in Duskwood.  
  
And so, knowing she was doing something downright foolish, the woman started looking around for a way down. If she could sneak up on rabbits she could get closer without the elves knowing, she reasoned, sure as trees are trees.   
  
What she found surprised her. Not far from her were a series of sturdy, short branches projecting from the woody cliff that looked almost like a living staircase. The cynical sabercub frowned at them, suspecting some devious Kaldorei trick, but eventually began climbing downwards.  
  
She was close to the floor when she picked out some interesting details. Bowls of incense burned near the cave's mouth and she could see amphorae of wine here and there that the dancers would pour themselves wine from, sipping it from cups carved out of rich red wood.  
  
And now, closer to the action, she could see the likenesses of stags carved along the wooden cliffs.  
  
Here and there the chatting Kaldorei would brush against one another casually. Gail spotted one woman massaging the breast of another as they talked about, of all things, the  _weather._  A hugely-muscled elven man very close to Gail's hiding-place behind a thicket was enjoying the attention of two beautiful women, their hands teasing the very obvious bulge under his robe, each one talking and drinking as if this were as normal as could be.  
  
 _Some kind of weird sex-party?_  Gail wouldn't be too surprised. She was, however, outright startled as the distinctive sound of hooves on wood came from that black, mysterious cave in the bonfire-lit cleft.  
  
That got everyone's attention. Each immediately ceased their talking, drinking and toying of one another, turning to the cave as a huge dryad stepped forth.  
  
Gail drew back instinctively. This was no cheery-voiced thing, no friendly woodland sprite. Very few of them, Gail had found, were anything of the sort. Compared to the Children of Cenarius the night elves were downright gregarious and accepting.  
  
This dryad looked around the crowd impassively. She was tremendously beautiful, athletically muscled and stunningly wild. From her sharp-featured face to the curve of her deer's backside she was decorated with almost primitive-looking paint that seemed, to the hidden woman, as if it would suit a troll or tauren more than her kind.  
  
The dryad was joined by a second. They wore no clothes and bore long wooden spears topped with wickedly sharp stone blades shaped like leaves. Their breasts stood proud in the firelight and Gail could clearly see old scars along their fine hides.  
  
She could also see something else. After noticing that 'something else' she found it very hard to notice anything but.  
  
Each dryad bore, between her hind legs, a hefty pair of balls in a pendulous sack, in front of which a long, dark horse-like cock dangled. Their fine green faces looked flushed around the cheeks and despite their stern countenances Gail could feel the almost electric sexual tension around them.  
  
The night elves could feel it too. Not a single man remained soft; every woman had nipples clearly outlined in the firelight, hard and dark under their robes.  
  
In great surprise the human found herself responding just as powerfully. The cleft betwixt her thighs was growing hot and damp within her pants, her skin flushed and hot, nipples at first simply firm, and then so hard they ached.  
  
 _How?_  she puzzled absently.  _The incense?_  
  
However it was Gail found herself running one hand over the hot space at her crotch as she crouched and watched.  
  
Slowly, almost gently, the dryads began a soft and wonderful song in the elves' mysterious, melodious tongue. One by one the elves joined in and soon the hollow rang with the strength of their combined voices as someone - or something - stirred behind the cave's curtain of shadow.  
  
 _Something is coming,_  those joyous voices seemed to intone,  _something is coming._

* * * * *

Gail knelt down as those voices sang, initially excusing the gesture as a result of the ache in her thighs from squatting, but as she watched elves all around were doing the same. Only the dryads - clearly guards of some kind - remained standing.  
  
The singing, at first a simple respectful trill, raised to an ecstatic crescendo as a curved figure stepped out of the dark wearing nothing but body paint and smoke from the incense burners.  
  
She was incredible.  
  
Just looking upon her took Gail's breath away and she noticed dimly that only the dryads sang now. All about her the Kaldorei knelt in wonderment at the sight of this...  
  
Night elf? Gail supposed she was. The pronoun 'she' only vaguely fit, though, as the woman could see the thick length of a long phallus dangling between the 'woman's' thighs.  
  
She was a velvety violet so deep that she almost seemed black. Her beautiful moss-green hair tumbled down her body, thick and curly, somehow managing to barely reveal each nipple tipping her perfect breasts. Her glowing eyes burned a luscious gold and crowning her skull were fine branched deer-horns, larger than a female's but smaller than a male's.  
  
She was no dryad, Gail could see that, but she held everyone in that space entranced merely by being.  
  
From her hiding place Gail could see the 'woman' was lacking the pendulous sack of a true man, unlike her entourage. As the dryads finished their songs the druid - she  _had_  to be a druid, Gail couldn't imagine what else she might be - kissed each tenderly like old lovers as the elves gathered there watched and waited.  
  
She didn't know much Darnassian but Gail could follow the basics. She'd stumbled upon some kind of festival held each year, some secret meeting, and the 'host' was bidding her (his? its?) guests welcome. There was a mention of lanterns, and choosing, and love.  
  
This druid seemed to be some kind of spiritual leader for the group but spoke of 'waking from the ignorance of the year past' and other druidic things that Gail didn't understand.  
  
The atmosphere was incredible, intoxicating. The musky scent of the incense mingled with the smells of wood-smoke from the bonfire, woody tones of tree and leaf carried on the forest breeze, and the distinct tang of arousal. Gail's hand, still against her cloth-covered sex, rubbed a little harder. Whatever this gathering was about it was getting to her badly.  
  
As the druid spoke Gail felt an odd tickling sensation brush over one of her calves. Normally she'd have responded immediately for fear of it being some venomous little snake but now, so entranced by the vision of impossible loveliness before her, the human barely noticed.   
  
She watched as the dryads took up position either side of the cave entrance as the druid - unquestioningly their mistress in some way - traversed the semicircle of kneeling supplicants. The Kaldorei lifted a man's chin here, toyed with a woman's hair there, chanting all the way in her lyrical language.  
  
Gail was barely surprised when the lanterns began pulsing gently in time to the druid's voice. It seemed right somehow and, as the tickling over her right leg grew, as she felt her underwear drench through in her desire, the trapper found that tiny voice telling her she was in danger harder to listen to.  
  
 _The incense,_  it shrieked silently,  _get away!_  
  
She was lost to its plea. Gail rubbed hard at her pants, debating with pink-fogged mind as to whether she should just take her pants off and be done with it, and it wasn't until a gentle grasp pulled the digits from her crotch that she thought to look down.  
  
Vines were growing over her lower legs, thick roots that fastened her to the soil, coiling up and around her torso fast. She barely stifled a panicked scream before vocal noises were no longer an issue; the vines snaked quickly up her torso, between her breasts.   
  
Around her tender throat they wrapped and up to snare her head and over those reddened lips, gagging her. With her wrists fastened and her arms following suit Gail could do nothing, trapped in her hiding-place as immobile as a statue.  
  
Fear stabbed at her stomach like an icy knife as she felt the vine encasing her neck tighten, enough to make her dizzy from lack of blood and air, yet not enough to force her from the waking world.  
  
Locked tight. Caught like a fly in the web of an achingly wondrous spider.  
  
 _Will I be here forever?_  she wondered, a fat tear sliding down one cheek. Then her silent question was answered as flowers began opening from the vines... Flowers shaped like lanterns, glowing more brightly than even the bonfire.  
  
 _Oh, shit._

* * * * *

She remembered someone shouting. She remembered the sound of hooves leaping as the dryads bounded forth, the crackle as the bush she crouched helplessly behind was cut down by gleaming sharp spears.  
  
The hapless fly could hear words over the thumping in her head even as black spots floated before her eyes. All in Darnassian, of course, but here and there she recognised 'human' and its invariable companion, 'rodent'. 'Filth,' 'intruder,' calls for punishment and death until a single word from the druid (one that Gail didn't understand) calmed them.  
  
Well, silenced them. The only 'calm' in the situation came from the enraged Kaldorei crowd stopping itself from tearing her apart bodily.  
  
The horned woman approached, hips rolling in unhurried manner, cock bumping gently on each perfect thigh in turn. Even in her predicament Gail felt her arousal rise, eyes sliding from face to breasts to phallus. The golden-eyed woman-thing grasped a handful of the trapper's hair and wrenched her head back - hard.  
  
Tears welled in her eyes and she made a strangled, wordless plea - for release? Of what kind? - and then in the silence that followed only the crackling of the bonfire was heard for many long moments.  
  
"Sabercub..."  
  
There was murmuring from the crowd around the man that had identified her. Who was he? Gail had no idea. She couldn't look away from those glowing orbs. They drowned her, ensnared her more completely than even the vines, even half-obscured as they were by the black specks floating in her vision.  
  
She hated those eyes. She loved them,  _worshipped_  them, and she hated that she did.  
  
"Sabercub," the druid repeated, sliding her hands down the human's chest. Those huge palms cupped her breasts momentarily, experimentally, before the strong digits wrapped themselves in the cloth and wrenched apart.  
  
With the sensual tearing of fabric the tunic was ripped asunder, her bare globes of flesh bouncing free. Nipples already hard, the trapped trapper groaned as the Kaldorei pinched those buds gently. Then she shrieked as the pinch grew painfully hard.  
  
"How did you come here?" the woman-thing demanded in a soft voice, her Common rough at best. With a disgusted snort she traced a symbol lightly on Gail's forehead and the trapper felt her awareness open, unfold like a flower. The druid's next words were in Darnassian but the human understood them perfectly. "You cannot be here,” the woman-thing said firmly, “you cannot."  
  
Gail tried to answer but nothing came forth. A wave of one of the dryads' hands loosened the vines at mouth and throat and the human gasped in great lungfuls of the scented air. She could smell herself, she was so wet, and from the way the druid's nostrils flared gently the human guessed her captor could, too.  
  
"S-stag," the trapper blurted out, not giving the horned beauty a reason to ask twice. "Followed... Followed a stag. Black, with white f-flecks over his haunches..."  
  
The druid's eyes narrowed dangerously and muttering broke out behind.  
  
"Can't be, can't be," she heard, "rodent's lying, she must be -"  
  
A hand was raised as the druid ordered silence and received it. The dryads shifted nervously and glanced at one another. They were creatures of the deep wild; while they were unfamiliar with petty lies they knew truth when they heard it.  
  
"She speaks true, shan'do," one murmured.   
  
"She has seen His shadow. We see it in her spirit," the other agreed, with no lack of disgust in her tone.  
  
The druid nodded as if the truth were already clear as day. Those fingers grew more tender, twisting and flicking over Gail's sensitive nipples, and the human fought hard against the urge to groan.  
  
And then one hand released her left breast, touched one of the flowers tenderly, golden eyes watching the brilliant flecks of light that it cast.  
  
"Her lanterns glow brighter than any other," the woman-thing announced. "It is her; He Himself has brought her here."  
  
There came protests from the crowd, growls and complaints, cut short by the druid's predatory glance.  
  
"It is decided. She is the one for this year's turning." She clapped those hands together and straightened, turning from Gail. "The vessel is chosen. The rite will commence shortly." Barely looking back at the human she waved a hand to her dryads. "Bring her. No need to be gentle. I won't be."  
  
In a flash the vines released her and two spear-points rested in the hollow of Gail's bare throat. The hoofed beauties stared down at her curiously but there was no gentleness, no friendship in their gaze. One grabbed her by the hair and dragged her toward the bonfire.  
  
Gail kicked and screamed but only as long as it took her to register a spear-point in the small of her back. Chosen or not she could still die here.  
  
Between camp-fire and cave she was held down and stripped, the dryads cutting cloth from her body with the leaf-blades of their weapons, thick cocks dangling beneath them semi-hard and hypnotic to the frightened, aroused human's eyes.  
  
"Do not struggle," one of them ordered. "Your presence here is a gift to you, rodent, from the God Himself."  
  
"This is a forgotten glade," the other joined in, her voice a little higher in tone but no friendlier than her sister's. "Shan'do Lirali is the sacred chosen of the God Cenarius..."  
  
"...As are we." Clever fingers ran down Gail's body as the human's panties were shorn from her pelvis. One finger, then two, were roughly thrust into her sex. It would have hurt had she not been so wet; as it was it was merely uncomfortable, and the dryad's eyes widened in surprise at the sensation.  
  
Gail was writhing on the ground, moaning and aching for more, as the druid approached to rest a hand on the Daughter's shoulder. "Is she ready, Iani?"  
  
"So very ready," the dryad responded in a husky tone, thrusting her fingers in and out of Gail's sex with growing insistence.  
  
"Then leave some for me," Lirali ordered in a gentle, amused tone, "and take Aara, go play with the supplicants."  
  
Iani reluctantly pulled her fingers from Gail's pussy, sucking them thoughtfully before bounding off, Aara close behind. Soon the human heard joyous squeals and manly shouts, followed by the liberal tearing of robes.  
  
Gail didn't dare move as the druid crouched over her. Moans floated to them from the other side of the bonfire and the trapper wondered which dryad's cock had hands around it, which one felt the touch of silky Kaldorei lips.  
  
Her gaze dropped to Lirali's own shaft. It was hard, proud, thick. From her position on her back Gail could see the glistening length of a feminine sex below, where balls might hang, and she felt a pang of want.  
  
A silky laugh brought her gaze back up, and then the night elf was straightened, dragging the human up by the hair. Gail's scalp ached and burned almost as badly as her sex.  
  
"Can you suck cock, little human?" the druid wondered.  
  
Gail's innate attitude kicked in, then, if briefly. Cramming her lips shut she turned her head painfully aside as the velvety violet rod came close.  
  
A surprised laugh from the druid and then her tremendously strong arms were hauling the human over to one of the incense burners. The trapper's eyes stung as her head was held right in the smoke; try as she might she couldn't help but breathe the stuff in.  
  
"Your kind are filth," Lirali commented conversationally. "You are thoroughly unworthy of this blessing but I cannot question the God's wishes." Long, long moments she held the human's head in the smoke and before long Gail felt her own juices trickle down her inner thighs with desperate, burning need. "So you will suck my cock," the elf's voice stated, "and like it."  
  
No threat. No order. Just statement of fact, fact that the burning in Gail's cunt echoed.   
  
 _If I suck that rod especially well,_  the addled human's brain reasoned,  _maybe she'll see to the ache between my legs..._  
  
Then she found herself on her knees again, the cock dangling temptingly above her, then coming more in range as the giant knelt down and then sat back in her haunches.  
  
"Suck," Lirali said in her mellifluous tone, and with a hurried nod that made Gail furious at herself the trapper set upon the member.

* * * * *

It was thick. It was luscious. It was hot. The dark head was already half-visible beneath the plush foreskin and Gail licked the very tip gently, carefully, before opening her lips to take that cushioned glans in. She rolled back the protective skin with her mouth as her tongue glided down the sensitive underside, human hands seeming so small as they wrapped around the base of that magnificent specimen. It was great in girth and heavily veined, a fleshy weapon for fucking, and the strange scent of it – so masculine and yet with an undercurrent of woman – made her already fuzzy head swim further.  
  
Gail was no stranger to cock, of course. She'd sucked and fucked her fair share back home, and even the great elven city that was her new home held men who had a taste for human girls. They were tighter, she'd been told; whether that were true or not she didn't particularly care. The combination of racist prejudice and raw lust was electrifying and she indulged in it as often as she could.  
  
This woman-thing, though, was something else. The boys she'd played with were a little bigoted, true, but Lirali truly saw Gail as a lesser being, she could see it in the druid's eyes as she watched the woman whose cock she suckled on. Hands and mouth both began moving, bobbing, eliciting a soft gasp from the shan'do, a noise that evolved swiftly into a full-voiced moan as Gail added a liquid swirl around the bulbous head with each downward movement.  
  
She had no illusions that under different circumstances the druid would have had her put to death, or left in the deep wilds. The disdain in her expression was clear and, secretly, the trapper grew wetter and hotter at the thought.  
  
“Deeper, rodent,” the druid snarled, a sexual purr that echoed in Gail's ears, grasping the human behind the head and forcing her down onto the pole. The movement caught the trapper by surprise and the thick pole, stuffed further into the back of her mouth, tested her gag reflex sorely.  
  
She coughed, tried to relax, barely managed to open her throat as that hand tightened in her hair and forced her further down. Her involuntary swallowing brought more groans to the druid's lips and tears to Gail's eyes. She struggled to get closer, to angle her mouth and throat better, forced into intimate proximity by the woman-thing's demanding movement.  
  
Gail pumped that rod with long and smooth motions. With her throat growing accustomed to the invasion she began letting it in further, drawing up until her lips pursed in a kiss on the very tip, then opening her jaw to glide back down. The deepthroating action seemed exactly what Lirali wanted and soon Gail's fingers felt wetness near the base of that member, flowing down along the druid's tight ass with the night elf's excitement.  
  
The rod pulsed in her hands. She could feel her captor's heartbeat between her lips as those thick veins throbbed. Gail knew that signal; the druid was getting close. Faster, deeper and more avidly she took the druid's phallus, pumping fast, bobbing up and down, the mighty length sliding so far down her throat that she wondered if she might damage her voice. Right then she just didn't care.  
  
As Lirali's gasping and moaning grew harder and hotter, nearing a peak, Gail suddenly let the pole slither slick and shining from her lips. She placed on hand firmly on the woman-thing's thigh and the other, her right hand, moved fast and determinedly up and down the shaft. The hand in her hair tightened and pulled her head painfully askew but she didn't stop that beat until, with a mighty squeal, the Kaldorei's body bucked and twitched in powerful orgasm.  
  
She felt the ripple right up that long cock as it spurted, gouts of thick, fragrant cum splashing over her shoulder and back, her breasts, over one side of her face. There was a lot of it and Gail laughed breathlessly, massaging the rod to get as much as she could before slowing.  
  
It glistened on her skin. She felt it trickling down the curve of her breasts and down the line of her spine. Capturing some on her fingers she licked it up hesitantly, groaning softly after. It tasted good.  
  
Lirali wasn't finished yet. By the burning look in her eye the night elf was barely started and with a swift movement she had her hand around Gail's neck and slammed her backwards onto the ground with a yelp of surprise and pain. The druid straddled her body, knees firmly down on Gail's palms to keep her pinned.  
  
“You like cum?” the druid snarled. “Disgusting little human, so frail and useless.” Her knees dug in and if it weren't for the soil beneath her hands Gail's knuckles would be shrieking in pain. “I could kill you so easily.” Still holding the woman down by the throat Lirali began pumping her cock with her other fist, the glistening and dripping slit of her cunt directly over the human's mouth. There was no way of Gail getting to it, of course, but she could feel drops of the woman's pungent fluid strike her skin.  
  
“I'm going to cum on your wretched little face, filth,” the druid snarled, lust evident in her voice, “which is more than you deserve.” That hand began working harder, faster, and Gail could only stretch out her tongue to catch those drops of honey as the druid worked herself up.  
  
She'd never been that close to another woman's crotch. It might have been the huge cock, the humiliation or the damnable incense, of course, but she found herself yearning to touch those soft folds, lick them, suckle that self-evidently swollen clit. The hand at her throat eased up as the woman-thing began toying with her slit, swirling around the clit, spreading her petals and making more nectar fall on the helpless human's face.  
  
More and more whimpers, vicious names, degrading slurs slid from the druid's mouth along with the moans. Her sex dripped, her hand pumped frantically, her tongue licked her lips. Then Lirali's thighs tensed; Gail opened her mouth wide in anticipation.  
  
With a sudden groan the woman-thing came hard, gleaming wet splashing from her swollen labia even as more creamy seed leapt from the druid's throbbing glans to fall over Gail's face. It was in her hair, over her cheeks and nose; she narrowly avoided getting it in her eyes. Her open, waiting mouth got mostly womanly nectar, the bucking of the druid's hips splashing it on her neck as well. It wasn't a big squirt but it was enough to catch Gail well and truly by surprise.

* * * * *

The trapper didn't get a chance to pause. The druid moved back, grabbed her legs, spread them wide enough to make the human's hips ache. Back they were bent, knees almost touching her shoulders, that bulbous head pressing against Gail's burning cunt.  
  
“Horrid little whore, aren't you,” the woman-thing groaned in heated desire, “I bet you fornicate with anything you can. You disgust me,” she continues as she bears forward, driving hard between Gail's walls.  
  
It hurt. That cock was huge. She felt herself being stretched too quickly, too widely, and she lets out a shriek of pain that did nothing to cover her moan of pleasure. It hurt but she deserved that, didn't she? And it felt so good at the same time, fuck, she was so full...  
  
There was no time to adjust before Lirali was pounding into her, using her, fucking her powerfully with that magnificent rod. She was obviously used to the motion, too, as thrusting seemed to come as second nature to her. Moans, gasps and squeals were ripped from Gail's throat with every single inward thrust.  
  
All around the human could dimly hear the noises of passionate lovemaking. She guessed none of it was as violent as this and found herself unable to decide if she were lucky or unlucky. Eventually the hammering in her loins drove all thought out of her head.  
  
“Filth,” the night elf repeated, “filth, disgusting human, tight hot little cunt...”  
  
“Yes,” Gail whispered helplessly, “filth, fuck it, fuck the filth out of me...”  
  
That made the night elf grin and suddenly she was ramming home as deep as she could. Every slamming impact against her back wall stretched her more and sent a spike of pleasure up her spine; Gail was cumming hard around that cock before she even knew it, walls clamping down fiercely as her nails dug painfully into the night elf's knees.  
  
She screamed with the intensity of it and although she couldn't hear, wouldn't care, the noise of her climax brought the entire glade to silence. Glowing lustful eyes peered their way as the druid's back spasmed again. Driving home the night elf's spunk splashed deep within the human, filling her and spilling out when the trapper's heated vessel could hold no more.  
  
Sticky seed dripped down between her buttocks, over her twitching ass, onto the grass below. Gail's world went white – the white of cum, the white of the Light, the white of the moon high above.  
  
That massive flesh-stick was wrenched from her crotch and Gail's limp, quivering body was turned over roughly. Her hips were pulled up, then, knees forced into a kneeling position even as a hand kept the trapper's face in the dirt. She felt her knees being knocked aside as the Kaldorei settled behind her and then her cunt was being stretched again, invaded, pounded.  
  
That was intense, deeper, no less savage. This wild being's cock was taking pleasure mercilessly from Gail's dirty body and leaving heady cream in its wake. A hand came down on the human's backside hard and she squealed into the soil, the noise changing to a desperate moan as a finger pressed against her back tunnel, then forced its way in.  
  
Sliding on the combined lubrication of Lirali's cum and Gail's own honey the digit penetrated as deep as it could go. She felt it slip out and then two fingers pushed in, the burn of her stretching ring absolutely no detraction from the pleasure of being doubly penetrated so.  
  
Then she felt the druid pause, and then heard her moan. Looking awkwardly around she saw a hoof land by her head, and over her shoulder she saw the druid's face twisted with pleasure – and Aara's face beyond.  
  
The dryad had come behind, angling carefully to slide her long, thick cock with its flared head right into Lirali's sodden pussy with a decidedly wet squelch. The druid's moan turned to a squeal of delight as Aara began thrusting, the very motion forcing the woman-thing to drive into Gail herself.  
  
It was incredible, intense, almost suffocating in its sensuality. Gail could swear she could feel that thick pole throb every time the dryad's member slid into the druid. If Aara weren't supporting her own weight the trapper felt she might be crushed under the power of this brutal, passionate sex.  
  
Hands grasped her head, tilted it, and something soft pressed against her lips, smelling powerfully of man. Gail opened her mouth instinctively and felt another cock slide into her mouth, down her throat, fucking it with long strokes as soon as its owner recognised that Gail was capable of taking it. It was an awkward position, not as smooth as if she'd been on her back, and she pushed her upper body off the ground to straighten her neck out.  
  
There. A deeper moan as the man – for a man it was – grabbed her hair and started fucking her face as if those reddened lips were another pussy. The feel of his girth down her throat, his balls bumping against her chin, drove her mind away. She was a toy to these beings, a living doll whose only purpose was sex, and as she felt the druid spasm and cum within her again – that thick seed sliding out down her legs – she felt herself coming close to another climax.  
  
Arms and legs shook as she screamed around that fat rod, the vibration knocking the man over his own edge, and she suddenly found her throat silenced as he pumped hot juice down into her stomach. She swallowed as best she could, a shaking hand coming up to pump the man for all he was worth, and she sensed rather than heard the dryad Aara's cry as the strange Daughter filled Lirali's hole to overflowing.  
  
Then she was empty, on hands and knees, and the human rolled onto her back numbly. Above her both dryads were towering over her, supplicants pumping their cocks, and nearby a different man and the druid herself were likewise bringing themselves to what Gail thought – hoped – was a final climax. Each dryad had a man behind her, gripping and thrusting, fucking their asses deeply to aid their excitement.  
  
Groans echoed about and Gail spread her legs, pulled open her pussy, made a target of herself. Breasts heaved as spunk splashed across them, eyes fluttered closed as she felt first one dryad and then another empty onto her face as their beautiful, lyrical voices told her what a worthless human slut she was, how she would never be anything but a cockroach with big dreams.   
  
Hot juice landed along her waiting sex – so hot that her hypersensitive skin felt it was almost scalding – as the shan'do drained herself onto Gail's flesh. Deep manly cries bounced across the hollow as the dryads had their asses filled with cum, Kaldorei balls bouncing off dryad testes.  
  
And then, just like that, it was over.

* * * * *

The trapper gasped helplessly as the night elves withdrew. Around her she could hear more fucking going on, cocks pounding cunts and asses and mouths, flesh slapping on wet flesh. She heard feminine moans that lacked their male counterparts and guessed that not all of the women favoured male partners; either way she was too exhausted to look.  
  
One of the dryads, Iani she thought, kicked a bit of dirt over the human as she sprang away in a sign of disdain. Gail's crotch ached at the gesture, humiliation and shame burning in her veins as raw desire. What would her friends say if they could see her? Would they kick dirt over her as well, wank themselves and spurt over her trembling form, then leave her naked as these creatures were?  
  
“You are a filthy bitch,” the druid stated softly, grasping the human yet again by the hair and dragging her into a sitting position. Gail cried weakly, tears streaking her cum-slicked face, arousal making her head fog ever worse.  
  
Then the woman-thing leaned down, dipped her head and ripped the tip of one of her horns along the skin just under Gail's left breast. Again and again those sharp branches cut her flesh, not a motion to wound but instead to mark, and then she was thrown back down into the dirt with her ribs stinging.  
  
A pair of Kaldorei women came forth, then, naked and dripping sweat. One bore drops of cum on her chin and one shoulder, the other smelled of other women. They were surprisingly gentle as they helped the numb human into a simple robe like the one they had arrived in, and the trapper could do nothing but weep silently, let them dress her and stand when they helped her up, every ounce of her injured and wet body aching for more.  
  
More mistreatment, more denigration, more sex in the midst of bigotry. The contrast was intoxicating – or maybe that was the incense. Or both? Gail didn't know and didn't care.  
  
The two women half-carried, half-led Gail away into the darkness between the lanterns. Sounds receded and Gail's weeping continued, silent but profound. Perhaps one took pity on her, the woman-smelling one, because after a while of walking she spoke.  
  
“Sabercub,” the Kaldorei whispered, and Gail was certain she recognised that voice, “you shouldn't have come here. This is a sacred place.”  
  
“Sacred to the God Cenarius,” the other agreed in a less sympathetic voice, “and we are His followers. Every year we come here, are called here, and nobody can find this place until it is time.” A thoughtful pause. “Shan'do said she was called here; sabercub said she followed a stag. Maybe she is meant to be here.”  
  
“Th-thought,” Gail whimpered between tears, “thought the orcs k-killed Him,” to which both women laughed.  
  
“No,” the first said happily, “at least shan'do says no, and we believe her. He will return to us. He is the Lord of Animals, the Lord of our men and of cock, of rutting in the wilds. Even women who don't like men don toys and fuck one another.”  
  
Gail could stand a little better, shook her head to try and clear it. “What... What is shan'do?”  
  
“It means 'honoured teacher' in our tongue,” the second woman answered, “and she is... I don't know. Blessed by the God Himself, as are the dryads that guard her, women with men parts.”  
  
The first made a thoughtful sound. “Maybe born that way, maybe not. We don't know. But no human has ever seen this place – ever. Most Kaldorei know nothing of it.”  
  
With a sudden motion the two of them stopped and Gail found herself unsupported, wavering with one hand on a tree. She looked back in confusion. The two had stopped right by the last of the lanterns.  
  
“Go home, sabercub,” the first woman advised. “Forget about all of this. Go home, wash yourself, and forget us.”  
  
Then they turned to leave her. Gail was too befuddled; she didn't think to stop them or call out. As they vanished back down the hollow, though, she thought she heard the second woman talking.  
  
“What if, like us, she's called back next year?”  
  
If the first woman answered it was lost in the sounds of the forest – normal sounds.  
  
Gail looked about. When she glanced back the lanterns were harder to see, as if fading from her sight. As she peered she lost track of them entirely, and it was as if they'd never been. Were it not for the sweat, tears and cum sticking the unfamiliar robe to her body she'd never have believed it had happened.  
  
With nothing left to do, and no Kaldorei or mysterious stag to guide her, Gail did the only thing she could do.  
  
She turned and headed for home.

ENDE

 


End file.
